Friend of the Devil
by Ovo
Summary: Escad learns the hard way that there are things far worse than losing your life.  Things such as Shadoles, Chobin Hoods, Women, and Eminent Evils from Beyond.  Not that he ever truly wanted to rest in peace, mind you....
1. Fall from Grace

_Friend of the Devil_

**_1. Fall from Grace_**

The metal cooled too fast, and the brittle blade snapped under the first blow from her hammer. Not that she was the world's greatest metalsmith to begin with, but she had long since learned to upkeep her daggers. The edge had been dulled of late, and _And_-

_This isn't working._

Leaving the hammer and remains of her dagger where they lay, the girl retreated closer to the glow of the forge. At least then, in the heat of the smoldering coals, she could mask the warm tears that threatened to overtake her.

.oOo.

Olbohn's kingdom was one of death. As such, he also governed birth and rebirth as a matter of course. He touched all walks of life with evenhanded measure, and yet, despite what those living might have said of the matter, and what he had been in mortal life, his heart was most genial.

"Is there something you need, my son?" he asked softly, startling not the Shadoles that attended him, but rousing instead the young man who hung back to the shadows that cased the cave-like walls.

Escad didn't answer, although that was no surprise to either of them. The young knight-inherent hadn't spoken in months; personally, he wasn't sure he even had a voice anymore. On occasion, he wondered, but he simply hadn't the willpower left to even bother. Since the day he had met Irwin in the depths of the Underworld, a strange calm had settled over his soul; yet he persisted, a mere shadow of what he had once been.

He couldn't even count the hours. He knew that some days, or maybe it was weeks, Olbohn encouraged him to continue down the Endless Path. For a moment, he wondered if it was time again for that encouragement.

Escad waited patiently, but Olbohn merely sighed; it was a soft sound, reminiscent of wind through the winter trees.

"No? Hmmm." The Wisdom turned his mind back to his matters, and at length Escad took his silent leave.

The Underworld was the same, day in, day out, though weeks, months, years. _Years?_ Surely not... not yet. Escad wasn't sure. It was... different, since he left for Rosiotti's guidance on the matter. Different, now that he was on _this_ side of the Veil, rather than _that_.

Different, now that he was dead.

Very rarely did he admit that much; most days he was content to shadow the newly dead, watching the tide of souls for familiar faces. Not that there were many he could watch for...

Some days, more recently if he could tell, a Shadole took to following him around. Sometimes it was there, as sometimes it was not. But it had been there for the last three tides, he realized, without going away. Bemused, he wondered if he had a new outlet for his aggravation, but all he could do was scowl.

"I'm waiting," the Shadole responded to the glare. When Escad didn't reply, it broke into a fit of giggles. "I'm waiting to see. I bet you; I bet you'll be one of us sooner or later, you know? You've certainly got the pain for it and you ain't seem to have anywhere else you're goin'."

He wouldn't become a Shadole, he determined. Nor would he walk the Endless Path. He would sit here, day after day, watching the dead, for however long it took.

Now, the Shadole hovered with him, making casual remarks about the weather and eyeing him as it did. He never answered, for he no longer spoke.

.oOo.

There was something wrong with the Tapestry. Pokiehl had said as much, but the Master Poet said many things; it was difficult to read the nonsense from the truth, and picking the truth from the nonsense was even more difficult.

None of that mattered now. Olbohn _knew_ something was wrong in his domain the moment that something became wrong. In that same instant, it seemed it had also become _too late_.

But there was hope. Even in the darkest depths of the Underworld, there was always hope.

_Escad_. These days, the boy rarely strayed any great distance. The child of his heart had faded far; although Olbohn would have much preferred him to take the Endless Path of reincarnation, the Wisdom respected that it was his choice of _when_. And perhaps it was a boon that the young knight was still himself, for there were few Olbohn would have otherwise trusted.

Currently, the youth sat in the corner, staring at his hands. When Olbohn spoke, he raised his head to listen. "My boy, pray retrieve my sword from the Antiquity." Escad blinked drowsily, and roused himself to follow the command. The Wisdom sighed after him.

It could take a lot to hold the proper order of things together in times of strife. The Lord of the Dead held on, holding all together, until he felt the first thread plucked free.

.oOo.

When he reached the Antiquity, the quiet glow of the treasures contained therein preoccupied his mind  a flute here, a doll there, all and every last one reeking of history and ancient power. He continued past treasures great and small until he found the greatsword, thrust into a spire of living rock.

It took him no effort at all in pulling it out, regardless of his expectations. The ancient thing glowed under his touch, and he bit his lip in thought.

_Olbohn's sword_. Last week, he might have been curious. Instead, he dutifully cradled the weapon against his shoulder, and made his way upwards through the Underworld.

With the Tide coming in, the Shadoles were agitated as one. Escad couldn't understand it, but he couldn't understand Shadoles to begin with. A cloud of them laughed, _kekekeke_, and it echoed through the halls. He quirked an eyebrow at the Shadole that floated in depraved devotion over his shoulder; it took his irritation for curiosity.

"The True Master is come," it giggled. "The True Master is returned!"

The young knight wasn't sure what it meant by that, and kept going; the Shadole went along with him. As he approached Olbohn's chamber, the clash of battle reached his senses, taking far longer to break through his lethargy than it should have. Tightening his grip on the sword, he stood by, watching the Wisdom engaged in a battle for his life against a lordly man; Escad slowly realized that he had never seen him before.

_How?_ He tried to wonder. How could Olbohn lose? In truth, he knew there _was_ no way, yet as they wrestled thunderously in the deepened darkness, the stranger clearly had the upper hand. In the instant it took for Olbohn to spot Escad, he lost his stand, and was hurled to the earthen floor.

Deep within Escad, something stirred. Rage, tainted by sickly, irrational fear, awoke within him. He would have rushed forward, confronted this menace himself, but had Olbohn not twisted suddenly and reached to him.

Unthought, he reached back. As their fingers brushed, fire flooded Escad's senses, leaving him in darkness. Distant scones flickered on either distance of the dirt passageway, but of Olbohn and the stranger, there was no trace.

He still had the sword, and, much to his annoyance, he still had the Shadole.

"If you want to stay in existence, I might take this opportunity to escape if I were you," his Shadole advised. "Not sayin' that you do, mind, just sayin'." The beast cackled at its own wit.

To Escad, running was not an option. Neither, it seemed, was returning to Olbohn's side. It dawned on him, as his steps took him farther and farther along the empty, unmarked path, that he was lost.

_Him_ of all people, _lost_, in the depths of the Underworld.

How utterly embarrassing.

* * *

A/N: A running parallel to _Ballad of the Blue Roses_, even though I really need no new stories. This was planned out well before _Ballad_, but I've got less of it written out. Moreso, I apologize for my inactivity - RL tackled me and I lost track of where I was. Hopefully I'll get my footing again shortly and be able to take off at a run. Title might someday change to something more appropriate, but I cannot say for sure. 


	2. Sunlight

Friend of the Devil  
**2. Sunlight**

The path had long since taken a steady, upward lift. It had been some time since he started walking, although he had no sense with which to measure exactly how long it had been – all he knew for certain was that his shoulder had started to ache under the unwieldy weight of the scabbardless sword.

It was an interesting feeling. Upon reflection, he presumed that he hadn't felt _any_ pain since his life was cut short, and even then, as he remembered with sharp clarity, he had been high up on adrenaline. He wasn't sure when he'd last had such an acute _ache_... But once the novelty wore off, it started to irritate the hell out of him.

With the exception of the occasional shrill cackle, the Shadole had quieted. From time to time it still muttered, then cut short, but Escad never paid it mind, and so never heard what it was saying.

As such, he trudged along with half a care, intent only on returning to Olbohn, by whatever path that was possible. So it was that he didn't hear the Shadole's warning to watch where he was going, and very neatly marched headlong into a wall.

After all that, the tunnel was a dead end.

Ignoring the echoing giggle of his incidental companion, Escad let the sword down to rest his arm, and stared. Unto itself, a dead end was not unusual. The Underworld was a network of burrows and chambers, and most of them ended one place or another, excepting the select few that went around full circle. But most of the endings had a purpose – the dead didn't need labyrinths to drive them to madness, they could reach that state of awareness all on their own and often did without outside encouragement. This was a long run without a purpose; that alone was suspicious and made him think twice.

The stone bricks that blocked his path were ancient and brittle, and water seeped between the base cracks. Testing its strength, he pushed against it, first with his offhand, then with his weight, and found it unusually pliant, though unyielding to his efforts.

Heaving a sigh, he lifted Olbohn's sword and concentrated.

"Oh, yeah yeah, do that!" the Shadole cheered him on. He froze his swing to glance at it irritably, as if to ask, _Are you still here?_

The effect was lost. Irate, he lifted the sword again and put all his force behind a single swing before the Underworld denizen could rattle on in its stupidity.

Several bricks fell through, or fell to his feet – cut clean through, far easier than he would have suspected. Many more, having lost their support, tumbled down from above to amass on one side or the other. Escad pushed his way through, but as the dust cleared, he recoiled in outright pain. Something was on the other side of the wall – _some remnant_, perhaps _some malevolent magic_ – searing his vision and setting his skin aflame.

As he stared from the safety of his side, his eyes adjusted to the foreign sight. A pale shadow danced with the natural dark, _the rightful owner of this nation_, as any dead could have said. But it was also familiar, in a way Escad couldn't place. Tentatively he held out his hand, allowing the shadow to eclipse it from above. It was still remarkably hot, but not the outright burning he had felt only a moment ago. After the shock wore off, it felt soft and warm, and he remembered what sunlight felt like.

Unsure of what to think, he decided abruptly not to think about it further. As he hauled himself out of the passage, he sunk up to his knees in the murky water, barely contained by the remaining bit of wall. The well – for that was what it must have been – was manmade and old; here and there bricks jutted out, just barely, but enough for a man who had spent much of his childhood testing his courage on jagged cliffs to climb out, if he could remember how.

Even so, the moss and algae growth was daunting, and dragging the sword after him proved nearly impossible except for how utterly stubborn he insisted upon being. By the time he reached the top, his fingers were stiff and uncooperative; once on dry land, the first he did was to set the irksome weapon aside and crack his knuckles, trying to subdue the unpleasant feeling.

A quick glance to get his bearings turned to an unabashed stare as the green countryside rolled off in all directions, dotted and lined by copses, fences, roads, and farmlands. The sun lazed along, a handbreadth towards the horizon, set into a deep blue sky, while puffy clouds raced ahead on the winds.

At his first sight of the living world, which may as well have been his first as he had mostly forgotten it, something burned within him, more painful than the sun alone had done. Forcing the feeling to return whencever it came – or wherever it cared, so long as it went – he lifted his burden and looked about more carefully for a sensible direction to follow.

It occurred to him then that the Shadole was nowhere in sight. He opted against checking the well, just in case it was lurking below and waiting for him. Instead, he bid it a silent, _Good riddance_, and took to the East, away from the sun. It promised a slightly rougher path, from what he could see, but he felt it no concern. After all, the way was softer than the walks of the Underworld.

Cutting a straight trail into the fading light, Escad crossed the heather and reached the unkempt road. Twice he strayed from the path as the evening wore into night, and both times he slipped into the drainage ditch, stirring up a fair share of dust. Eventually, Salamander's Moon rose, casting a dun glow to the land. A will o' the wisp hovered in the distance, and remained when it turned out to be a tiny, flickering candle in a farmhouse window.

Passing it by in the night, Escad scoffed; he didn't need charity. But on the other hand, he didn't have the patience to sit and wait out the night. And he was far more exhausted now than he had been in... _years, was it?_ He couldn't remember. He glanced back. From this angle, the candle was gone, but the looming shadow of the house remained.

Maybe he could sleep... _Or pretend, at least_. Get a couple of hours rest, move on.

Decided, he turned around and made his way back. There was no path he could see, though that didn't mean there _wasn't_ one. On principle, he refused to sneak into the barn without asking, so he trudged amidst the knee-high grass until he found the nearest door, knocked loudly as he could manage, and steeled himself. The woman who answered the door slowly blinked her doe eyes at him. Her soft white nose wrinkled, and she squared her shoulders, staring at him expectantly. But he was uncertain of what to say, much less how to say it.

"Greetings, Humble Cottage Dweller!"

Escad flinched. The gaunt woman appeared at his shoulder, with a laughing grin far too big for her narrow face and bulging, near vacant eyes. Her dark hair sported a stripe of a lighter shade, and that gave it away, if nothing else.

The Shadole had taken the form of a human, although there was something more nagging at him, more than the fact that it... that _she_, was speaking for him... in a deceptively sweet voice, no less.

"My companion here and I, that is to say, _we_, have been journeying long and hard all the livelong day..." Escad honestly couldn't tell if the Shadole was honestly trying or mocking, and a glance to the resident told him that she was in a similar state of mind. She looked to him as the speech rattled on, and he merely shrugged. Most of it was true, he supposed.

Abruptly, the door shut, leaving them to the night air. It was an unmistakable gesture, and, given their appearance, Escad couldn't really blame the woman. The Shadole foolishly studied the cottage at nose length while he turned back to the road, but before he had taken four steps he heard the muffled _click_ of the latch, and a wan, willowy man joined them in the dark.

"Good evening to you," he politely offered.

"Howdy!" This time, Escad's Shadole was faster, more direct to the point. "Can we get a rest in yonder barn?"

The man sighed softly; his voice betrayed nothing but an even timbre. "Please, come inside."

In the dimly lit foyer, the man paused and turned to them. He studied each in turn, to which the Shadole chirped defiantly. "_What_?"

The man merely blinked slowly. "My name is Gramble."

"And hello to you, too. I'm Shady and this here's Bubbles."

Gramble squinted skeptically, then turned away, towards the wide-open rooms.

"I see," he said at length. Any challenges might have made to the farce he were in Escad's mind; their host nodded to the two women standing beside the hearth, and the sable creature that opened the door visibly pricked her ears. "Ella will show you to the bath. Please take no offence; their noses are sensitive."

"What offence? I don't know about _your_ nose, mate, but my lad here _reeks_. Like carrion, when you think about it, doubt he's had a bath in _years_."

Escad shot 'Shady' a dangerous glare, which did nothing to dissuade the Shadole's loose tongue. If the devious louse decided to spill the whole story, he wasn't sure what would come of it... nor was he keen to find out. As it was, the Shadole merely licked her lips and pushed him after the fawn.

The dwelling was not large, but of a size for three people to live in adequate peace. There were few walls, but strategically placed candles cast a faint glow, barely enough to find one's way to distinct places of importance. The bath was partitioned in the back, and had a door leading outside from the would-be room.

After filling the washbin with water, Ella bowed her leave, returned shortly with a clean leather towel, and disappeared entirely. After she had gone, the Shadole cackled from across the tub. "You do still remember _how_'ta _bathe_, don't you?"

Glaring back, Escad dipped his hand into the water, before jerking it back with a splash.

For inducing no steam, the water was staggeringly hot.

Ignoring the affront to his dignity, he stared at the droplets trailing down his arm, leaving pale trails amidst his travel grime in their wake. Certainly, rest was imperative, even for the restless, but he couldn't help but wonder...

Did he... really have the time for this nonsense?

.oOo.

"A fair sight better, are you?" Gramble spoke in the heart of manners, as though not expecting an answer. It was fortunate, for even had Escad anything to say, it was unlikely to be nearly as pleasant. "If I may, this is Lucy."

_Lucy_, Escad recognized, was the flaxen one that had stolen his clothes while his back was turned. She had them full of soap and sand by the time he caught up with her, and they were still uncomfortably damp... though so was he. Gramble excused himself and Ella to the hearth, while Lucy accompanied them to the dining table, already set for the three of them. The unfamiliar display of foods was distinctly arranged, and the plates far from empty.

Suddenly lost, Escad did little more than stare. He couldn't take his cues from Ella, as a fleeting memory told him was proper. Nor Lucy, who merely stared at him while he tried to fathom how to proceed.

"Eat up," the Shadole suggested, doing no such thing herself. "Judging by the looks of them, this is more than these people eat in a whole season."

The problem, he figured out, was not that he wished to snub the food, but that he was genuinely famished. And that feeling alone was enough to confuse him, above and in harmony with what had been happening all day. Week. _Whatever_.

.oOo.

Dawn couldn't come fast enough.

After a damp, restless night in an uncomfortable haystack – who, in their right mind, had _thistles_ in their grain? – Escad roused to find himself watched by one of the solemn fawns.

Gramble and Ella were waiting in the twilight outside the barn, and waited patiently to allow Escad time to pick prickly weeds out of his hair with his free hand.

"Do you know the Luon Highway?" the farmsman asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pointed out over the distance, towards a skinny stretch of road, and assured, "It connects pretty much everything, if you walk far enough. Anyway, if you go north, you can get to our very own Range Road there, which – if you take the way west – will take you right to the Highway, and the Highway will take you wherever you want to go."

"Bandits," Lucy said plainly, and the man nodded.

"You have to watch out for bandits this time of year, but... " He studied Escad deftly, his eyes lingering on the sword casually balanced upon his shoulder. "I'm sure you know your business."

Finding the Shadole gone again, Escad shrugged to himself and nodded to the lot of them. Of this whole business, leaving set him at ease.

At a distance, he glanced back to find what might have been business as usual, though he couldn't say for certain – Ella and Lucy had started work at one end of the field, while Gramble tended to something else in the yard. Not one of them looked after him, which suited him fine.

As the farm faded behind him and the sun climbed the sky, the familiar rockiness of the Luon Highway climbed under his feet. Escad felt vindicated in stopping for the night – he may very well have missed the highway by miles. It was a comforting thought, being on familiar ground...

Out of nowhere, a small hand padded its way up his cape. Jumping aside, Escad stumbled, and came nose to whiskers with a short, mousey demi-human. Blinking its sallow eyes, the diminutive Chobin Hood was off at a dash, chittering as it went.

It was the first monster he crossed paths with, and he gave chase because it had _dared_ rather than he had a hope of catching it. Oddly enough, it stuck to the main road until the last moment, sliding down the Sunlit Canyon, towards the ravine below. He followed suit, coming to a stop as his quarry doubled back, direction wise, and dashed between the legs of a young woman, nearly bowling her over backward in the process. She expertly recovered her balance, huffing at the anxious Chobin Hood for its ill grace. As she was giving attention to the rat as it pulled at her arm and prattled in his direction, she hadn't seen him yet, and it gave the memories barely enough time to come flooding back in force...

"_You_," he snarled, and his voice thundered amidst the canyon's crags. The girl jerked about, dropping her center of gravity and raising her eyes to meet his. Her bravado fell in the same instant, and she hissed an oath of the unpleasantly surprised.

* * *

**A/N**: As if I didn't have enough plotbunnies, now Gramble wants a story unto his own. (Sadly, he shall have to get in line!) 

Incidentally, by 'parallel,' last note, I meant, 'written at the same time from similar bits of motivation; may be some idea bleedthrough.' And not so incidentally, I'm still working on BotBR - Chapter 4 is, without fail, my accursed sticking point in any given story. But that's next in line, so I cross my fingers here and wish you all happy reading (here and elsewhere).


	3. Unholy Alliances

___Friend of the Devil_

___**3. Unholy Alliances**_

Her first move was to back away from him, which was inherently reassuring. She was strong, in a sense, but she was also astoundingly flighty...

She was also, Escad found, as she tripped backwards over the Chobin Hood cowering at her heels, easily half his weight. He caught her by the arms as she fell, but, without a second thought, she used him as leverage, and a steel-toed shoe cracked against his chest.

Through the haze of pain, he did not remember those in the least. In fact, she _had_ changed a bit from what he did remember... Her style of dress was the same, but if replaced for wear or variety. Her knives were missing – instead, a single platinum dagger hung from her belt, and she wore unfamiliar, metal-laced gloves that appeared maybe two sizes too big. To Escad's eye, it seemed he had caught her on an outing close to home and without any significance to the rest of the world.

And his appearance had unsettled her greatly. By the time he recovered, she was halfway up the slope, traversing towards the peak of the ridge. Stopping only to drag the Chobin Hood up over the precipice behind her, she met his gaze with an askew glance before abandoning him completely.

He gave chase along the ravine. If he didn't, he knew, he would lose her.

She was right to run. He was going to kill her.

The canyon ended blind, with a steep overhang. But, instead of making a clean escape like he might have expected, the woman was crouched on the jutting spire of rock, flushed and out of breath, but with a clear advantage in terrain.

It was all the same to him, until she had the audacity to wheedle out the obvious.

"What do you see?" she asked. It took him two full minutes to take his eyes off her, and not without glancing back to make sure she didn't vanish into thin air. Escad puffed up defiantly, challenging the absurdity of the question. He shook his head, flicking his gaze back and forth between her and the dead-end canyon, and answered forthwith.

"Nothing. What should I..."

"Who are you, anyway?" 

"... see?"

"_No one..."_

A pebble slipped from above, clicking its way down the gouged out cliff. Of years past, Escad heard echoes of the High Priestess, teaching him the words..._Olbohn... Rosiotti... _

"_...just the face of the earth."_

Realization struck – the proverbial landslide, as it were. "...oh."

Glancing to the woman overhead, Escad found her staring into the empty space between her perch and the ground at his feet. Whatever she had been expecting...

"Sol." The name alone burned his tongue; she didn't look at him, but he knew that she most certainly heard him. It was in the way that she breathed, slowly... listening... _waiting_ for him to give something away.

"Come down," he told her. It was all he had to offer.

Half a bark, too thick to be outright laughter, she snickered in spite of him. "You take me for a fool."

"You are a fool," he snapped back. Whatever she was worth, it wasn't sugarcoating. "Come down. We'll talk."

Only then did she look at him; it was an askew glance... hopeful in one eye, but he couldn't see the other.

"Talk?"

"Talk."

Reputation preceding him, he backed off a couple of steps, giving her space. She didn't trust him – beyond common sense, it was fairly obvious in the way she kept looking back over her shoulder while she climbed down. Halfway to the ground, one of her hooks slipped, because she was more concerned with what _he_ was doing. Although she recovered, barely, it made her all the more sullen when her feet touched upon the stable earth.

Escad felt his hand twitch, and he bit the inside of his cheek, carefully observing her movements. She kept to the wall, as if it would protect her, and, at heart, he balked at the notion – the rocks were _his_ home, she just happened to live here. Crossing her arms, Sol cocked her head, studying him up and down, and side to side and pretty much everywhere except for meeting his steady gaze.

"Well?" she asked, farthest from nonchalant, "Here we are..."

"What's happened?" he demanded to know; more to the point, "What are you doing out here?"

"It... I'm not really involved, I..." Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "I was only trying to clear my mind, I swear."

"Yes, but you know something." He was right. He _knew_ he was right, by virtue of the fact that she was out here, that she shouldn't have known what she was going to find. Nodding to the highway, to the cliffs, he asked, "Why this? Why here?"

At first, he wasn't sure that she was going to answer. Between her restless fidgeting, and her consistent reluctance to meet his gaze, it seemed that she was equally as likely to cut and run. At last, she shrugged, although the words were hard to come.

"Pokhiel dropped by a few days back," she said softly, "Said that... 'light shall become night for two thousand years,' I think it was. Don't know – don't remember, I was..." As she faltered, her arms tightened around her shoulders, and her voice returned, "Hadn't been by for nearly two years, himself... Guess I thought he might be disappointed in me."

Escad didn't bother asking why; not only was his world turned upside down in a day, the closest thing he had to a lead was outright ridiculous.

"Pokhiel spouts nonsense," he scoffed, "You know that."

"Came out 'cause I wanted a second opinion is all..." Coming out of her cocoon, Sol sighed deeply. "You're here," she followed. "Gaeus isn't. May be nonsense, but it has to count for something. It's the only thing to go on."

"In other words, you're clu..."

Startled, Sol waved him quiet. He wisely shut his mouth as she tilted her head slowly; barely breathing, she tightened her gloves, but by then he heard it too.

The long, grating rasp of metal against rock. It broke off near the end, echoing a ways, before it was followed by a second. The third began, closer than the first two, before Escad thought to blink. He found Sol staring at him, hands clenched together, _shivering_; she may have been making ready to break for it, except the sound froze her to the spot, every time it dragged closer.

"Know what it is?" she hissed; he shook his head, though admittedly he was curious.

"You know?" he asked, unconsciously lowering his voice to match her caution.

"No idea." She paused to listen. "Interested in staying to find out?"

"Do I have a choice?" Whatever it was moved along the canyon towards them; most likely, there was no way out without being seen, at best.

He was trapped.

Sol bit her lip and glanced about. Almost immediately, she dashed to a corner of the wall and crouched. The overhang behind them was too steep to climb, but Escad wasn't sure what kept her from dashing up the walls to either side. After a moment, it occurred to him what she was up to. The wall curved outward, giving, between it and the overgrown wildflowers and wild sage, a kind of temporary blind spot.

With far less caution, he stepped toward her, making similar use of the canyon wall with no time to spare. The harsh scrape sounded on the other side of the wall, preceding the lone figure that appeared and paused to taste the air.

Escad sighed, and glanced at Sol for her reaction. The girl bit her lip, likely unsure of how to take the situation. The moment it saw them, it cackled and renewed its efforts, floundering towards them under the weight of its burden, tongue lolling out in its concentration. Sol scrambled, ducking behind and past him in an effort to gain ground, and he bit down on a dire laugh.

"You really shouldn't leave this thing lying around," the Shadole said, heaving the greatsword another foot. It grinned at him, eyes glazed over in a wicked kind of glee. "You know that, right?"

Not bothering to reply, he hefted the sword with practiced ease. Retreating to a safe distance, the Shadole collapsed into a giggle fit, which Escad promptly ignored. There was a certain comfort to the blade that he could simply not place, try as he might... it was soothing to have on hand, for reasons beyond the banal.

"Considering how last we parted," Sol piped up, breaking from her crouch and breaking his cool, "you keep some strange company."

"Considering how last we parted," he seethed in return, challenging her to argue, "I think it's rather appropriate."

Rolling her shoulders, the girl dodged the argument, returning readily to the problem at hand. "I don't know anything..."

"_That_ is an understatement," Escad said, earning a chortle from their bygone witness, which they both promptly ignored.

"Yeah, so, uh..." Sol kept her gaze in the vicinity of his left shoe, even after she was done sating the itch on the back of her neck. "Guess this is where I should probably assume you have it all under control, and leave it alone, huh?"

"I'm certainly not going to ask for your help."

To her credit, she didn't look surprised; instead she pouted, rightly disappointed. "Escad, look, I-"

"Go," he told her. "Or I'll kill you."

"Oh, okay. I'll..." Eyes wide, she nodded _fair_, creeping past the Shadole with fleet, uncertain steps. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"You had better pray not."

Turning, she walked away. As soon as she rounded the corner, he heard her run, and listened diligently until the echo was gone.

"Good show!" The Shadole clapped its human hands together, beaming extravagantly all the while, "Going soft already? Or is it the fresh air?"

Escad scowled. There was no expecting a shade to understand the etiquette of war. "Next time, she won't be so fortunate."

A crow landed on its shoulder, then hopped away to the nearby outcropping. It didn't seem to notice, even when the bird leapt off to a nearby outcropping, leaving a dry tear in its flesh. "You _honestly_ think she plays by the rules?"

"No," Escad replied. It hurt to think about, slight... an itch beneath the skin. "But someone has to."

The crow landed on the ground and pecked at the stones. It paused once to eye him inquiringly, before moving on with the rest of its small murder. Watching it go, the lost knight mulled over his next move. He had thought he had an idea where he was going, but Sol threatened to change the equation.

.oOo.

She ran until she could scale the valley without stumbling, then doubled back over the high road. Breaking to catch her breath on the ravine, she dropped to one knee and cradled her head in her hands.

"What did you expect?" she demanded, fuming to no one in particular, "'Nice to see you, mate. How's life without me'?"

Light, flat footfalls startled her from her preoccupation, but Sol relaxed as the sound registered familiar. Chitto skittered to her side in a panic, nails clicking against the sand as he went.

"Boss!" he called, trying to pull her off the ground. As she stood, reassuring him that she was okay, she found that the wind had shifted, bringing with it a deep, cool sense of the earth from the south. "Boss! Look!"

"What is it?" she asked him, agitated by his agitation. "What did you find?"

"Look, look!" The Chobin Hood ran his fingers through his whiskers, and pointed frantically, repeatedly into the wind, "Look, look, look!"

Along the next ravine, a cloud of dust rose into the sky, staining the view. Shading her eyes, Sol strained to see below the haze. There, dotting the canyon amidst the dust, shambled green and gray forms, packed shoulder to shoulder, grating against one another as they went. They moved independently of one another, shuffling or crawling or dragging themselves along towards the northwest. Torn limbs; hanging flesh; darkened, sightless eyes...

Feeling nauseous, she stumbled, falling back. Chitto's demands for instruction ringing dead in her ears, she covered her mouth and fought to urge to be wretchedly ill.

Below them, tearing against one another at a staggered pace, marched an army of the dead.

* * *

A/N: Yeah... I use different hero/ines per story, and try to vary their personalities. It helps to play through the game with X outlook to see how a particular characterization might affect the outlook of things... Also, Look Ma, No Greek! (Noo...! Norse, this time!) 

Working on Ballad and something for FFVI. Currently waist-deep in NaNoWriMo, so we shall see...


	4. Reunion

___Friend of the Devil_

**_4. Reunion_**

Maybe it was foolish to run. Maybe there was nowhere to hide, and they were all to die, clawed to shreds by the unwieldy horde that spilled unwittingly into the valley. It certainly looked that way.

Once, she had known the world to be fickle, _unfair_. But she had long since come to terms with the darkest days, having found light amidst the broken shards of her life. She would never give in, and never lose hope... _never again_.

Whatever was to be, she was ready. Even Death would find her an even match.

Skidding to a stop behind her two companions, she used her momentum to spin about and crack the thick of her weapon against the nearest of the lumbering hulks to appear out of the rocks, hungry for blood. The blow sent the zombie's jaw flying; it staggered back, unbalanced yet undeterred. Landing low on her feet, she sprang forward to crush the vile thing's throat between the chains and weight of her flail.

Crouching low as her opponent fell, Daena scowled. Ahead of her, the temple eunuch shielded his priestess from harm as best he could while she made her stand.

"Keep going," she snarled at him; only in afterthought did she realize, _neither of them know the way_.

The ravenous legion of undead seemed to appear sporadically, as though magically summoned within their holy sanctuary. It was impossible, lest they were betrayed... and an uncouth number did shamble about in tattered temple funeral robes.

Decidedly not seeking to divine the origin too closely, Daena took to cleaning the path. For every one enemy she incapacitated at least one more to replaced it... and even dismembered pieces crawled about with a will of their own.

The first to gain an advantage on her managed to tear one of her weapons away, sending it plummeting down the cliffside. In retaliation, she cracked the skeleton down to three pieces with her remaining flail, before lunging at the nearest rotting lump of flesh. They were on all sides, crushing against one another in an attempt to reach the battle in their midst; it was the most she could do to hold them far enough back to breathe.

A shadow passed overhead, prompting Daena to crouch. Its caster hit the ground behind her with a heavy, sickening crunch. She turned, ready to defend herself; instead, her jaw dropped.

"What did I teach you," Escad growled over his shoulder, not bothering with the honor of facing her outright, "about watching your back?"

Dark energy crackled along the length of the knight's sword. It faded away as, by ones and twos, the undead backed down, watching, gurgling nonsense as they appeared to estimate the situation. In the respite, Daena paused to wipe her eyes free of dust-born tears.

"Where were you headed?" Escad asked, keeping a watchful eye on the shivering monstrosities, each in turn. When she didn't say, he glanced at her, prompting the answer.

"The sealed chamber," Daena replied evenly. Then, all at once, "Everybody else should be down there... everybody who made it that far, anyway."

The girl huddled in the protective embrace of her guardian caught his inert attention, much to Daena's displeasure. The woman's tail whipped once, betraying her tension, but Escad didn't notice.

"Lead the way," was all he said.

Ears flat, Daena guided them up and down through the natural honeycomb of caves. A blessing, the undead gave them a wide berth. Behind her, the priestess and the eunuch followed her footsteps closely, but Escad took his time sauntering after them, keeping up appearances. It was, perhaps, for the better that she had to slow her pace for him – the priestess would have been unable to keep up if she hadn't – but because it _was_ for him, it grated on her already raw nerves.

When they reached the heavy doors of the sanctuary, the nuns-turned-guards ushered them inside. They didn't bother counting heads; they took one look at the priestess and sealed the room behind them. The sealed chamber was made for ceremony, not for refuge, and many bodies of all shapes were pressed together in the half-light. The girl was given more room than everyone, more room than perhaps necessary, along with her escort. Even so, the stench of sweat and the acrid smoke of the torches were thick in the air.

In their space, just beyond the doors, Daena stretched, recovering from the ordeal in her manner. As she did, she took the time to fully appreciate Escad, his condition, and his being here against all odds.

"You're supposed to be dead," she told him. There was an edge to her voice, though she struggled to keep her anger in check; she bother to bring up the fact that she had been the one to bury him. That he was walking around unsettled her greatly, even if, at present, he may as well have been considered the same as all the other corpses.

Her tail lashed when she realized he was not only ignoring her, but was staring at the little girl again.

"Who is she?" He asked softly. If she hadn't known better, Daena would have thought he was afraid to hear the answer. He couldn't _not_ know.

Her decision was long, and longer seeming in the dark.

"The High Priestess."

Daena studied his reaction carefully, and knew – by the subtle clenching of his jaw, the light lift to his head... by whatever interest he might have had locking itself off from the world – that she had pained him. She would have liked to feel some satisfaction in that, but she couldn't.

In this, his pain was her pain.

"What are you doing here, Escad?" Her voice had gone flat. If he noticed, he didn't answer.

Minutes ticked by, or maybe hours. The priestess sat between them, looking sad and alone, while the eunuch tried to comfort her. An older nun was telling some of the younger temple guardians a story, about Life and the Goddess and how hope prevailed – her voice was hushed, but carried through the mostly silent crowd easily. Wisps of other conversations reached them, but it was all simple things – hopes and dreams and fears.

Escad started pacing – it was that or sit down like a normal person.

"How long are you going to wait down here?" he asked at last, after having grown bored of that preoccupation.

Daena's ears were still flat – in the scant light, they appeared to be gone – and her tail was whipping erratically; she didn't like him being here any more than he liked being here. She didn't like _being here_ any more than he did. Resigned to this, she watched him move.

Abruptly, he broke off his pattern and stood before the doors. He pressed one hand flat against the seam, and considered it. He didn't have the strength to open them – she _prayed_ that he didn't. Holy seals sapped one's strength, and she wasn't certain they would be able to restore it if he did. Moreover, she prayed that if he _did_ try, she would have the strength to stop him alone. She narrowed her eyes.

Setting his sword aside, he placed one hand on each door and braced himself. Daena was on her feet in an instant, but before she could act there came a heavy knocking on the doors. Escad jumped back, for which some small part of her felt smug about. Imagining a horde of dead on the other side, she found it difficult to nurture.

The banging continued, erratic at first, then with a pattern that she didn't know. It was muffled by their thickness, but clear enough, until – with a flash of light – the seal broke. Both doors were heaved open, wide enough for an average person to pass, and Sol stumbled in, heaving gasping breaths from the effort.

Daena started to rush forward, but the woman shook her head, teetering from the effort. Holding up a hand for all questions to wait long enough to catch her breath, she leaned forward and placed her other hand on her knee. After combing her hair back with her fingers, she managed to straighten up, and hooked her arms behind her head for easier breathing.

"Selva's gone," she sighed. Fixing her best glare on Escad, she asked, "What _aren't_ you telling me?"

.oOo.

A cursory check found the Temple empty, if in total disarray. The mass of undead had vanished, but their passage had left noticeable tracks among the dirt and sands. The priestess was sealed within the chamber, with much forethought to supplies and a handful of dedicated guardians. The rest of the nuns and Temple Guardians set about to setting right what they could as quickly as possible.

Those missing from the ranks were simply gone, like the dead. Every so often, there were signs of what could have been a struggle, but it was guesswork at best.

Escad followed the entourage up the cliff, half out of a lingering sense of duty. The group dispersed to its individual tasks, and he made his way to the Meditation Chamber. None of the others preceded or followed him; he expected to find it empty.

He pulled the doors open and stopped cold.

Sitting on the dias, clicking her dangling heels together, and beaming away at nothing in particular, was the Shadole he thought he'd left behind on Luon Highway.

"Wha'cha lookin' for?" it asked, never losing its grin.

Escad turned back down the path in disgust.

Neither Daena nor Sol had joined the group working the restorations; nor were they guarding the priestess. The sun was setting behind the height of the mountain by the time he found any sign them, after some dedicated searching, along the brook below the waterfall.

The first was the teal-blue scrap of cloth, which the knight picked up and dutifully puzzled over. The next was a clog – one of Daena's, he knew by recognition – followed by a different shoe – one of Sol's – and finally its mate. Daena's gloves were a short distance away, her flail tucked between them.

The curious thing was that he could _hear_ them; the deep _thrum_ of Daena's voice ever so often interrupted by a lilting reply from Sol. He turned, finding the niche between two boulders, and immediately regretted it.

Wriggling far too much, and often splashing the water with her bare feet, Sol lounged on a sun-warmed rock, resting her chin on her crossed arms. Her skirts and jewelry were off to one side, with her damp hair spread over her shoulders to dry. Daena was kneading her shoulders, and barely spared him a glance.

Escad would have liked to make a daring escape, but he was too busy choking on air. Opening half an eye, Sol regarded him critically. "How do _you_ relax after a fight?"

Not bothering to look up from her work, Daena replied for him, "He doesn't. That's the problem."

"Should you not be...?" Escad's voiced failed him, so he chose not to complete that sentence. Sol rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, fine... _So_," she counted off on her fingers, launching back into the topic with ease, "Gaeus, Selva, and Olbohn. That's three of seven."

"Six," Daena corrected automatically.

"Right... six," Sol agreed. She poked her tongue out in thought, rubbing her palm absentmindedly. "Which leaves Pokhiel... good luck finding him, Tote and Rosiotti."

"Rosiotti lives in the Mindas Jungle," Escad said. He only realized it was unnecessary when Sol grinned lopsided at him.

"No kidding," she slid out from under Daena's hands, prompting Escad to turn away sharply. "Tote usually hangs out at Lake Kilma." He felt a tug on the cloth bunched up in his hand, and gratefully let it slip through his fingers, "Mine, thanks."

She was tying the makeshift top behind her neck as she sauntered past, and he fixed his gaze on the creeping vine making its way down the nearest boulder. It was difficult to be polite with someone who didn't appear to understand etiquette in the least.

"I guess I'd check one, then the other, unless I had a helping hand," a beat, followed by, "Which reminds me; does this mean we're working together yet?"

"You and I aren't through," he snapped, jerking his gaze back to her. Fortunately for his pride, she was mostly dressed, and in the final stages of doing up her hair.

"Good," Sol purred. "You take Mindas," she told him, with an emphatic poke to the chest with a hairstick. "That jungle makes mazes out of my brain."

"Fine." Escad replied. Finding his opportune exit, he left without another word.

After he had gone, Sol dropped the act and sighed deeply. Feeling Daena's hand on her shoulder, she blindly grabbed for it, taking all the comfort she could get.

"You gonna be okay?" the temple guardian asked.

"Yeah. No." Sol nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know yet, but I gotta get rolling."

* * *

**A/N**: ... (i'm worried that if i say anything, i might get pounced on, oh no!)


End file.
